Prejudice and Pride: Mr Darcy's Story
by SPF55
Summary: Pride and Prejudice from Darcy's point of view. I will try to update at least once a week during the Summer.
1. Chapter 1

*****The first line is taken from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice and is not my line.**

 **Thank you for reading my story. I hope you enjoy. Please R &R!**

 **CHAPTER 1**

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife,***

For Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy it was not that was _he_ necessarily wanted a wife, but _society_ wanted him to have a wife. Or rather, expected him to have one. Thus, he was both on guard from and on the hunt for a lady to fill that necessary and immense office. However, he did not want a wife, not yet,

But society expected it.

 _Demanded_ it.

Darcy knew he would have to find a wife despite his own reservations towards the task.

Yet as importunate as the task was, Mr. Darcy found himself sitting in a carriage, with his best friend, Charles Bingley, headed towards the country. At least in the country Darcy could put behind him the entire wife business for a few months.

The country, Darcy knew, was no place to find a wife.

Bingley, however, seemed less convinced of the fact. Darcy would have to keep an eye on him. And so he resigned himself to the idea of spending a few months in the country; he felt duty bound to watch out for any young ladies who would try to snatch Bingley up.

"Good grief, man," Bingley cried out, interrupting Darcy's thoughts. Darcy looked up at his friend. Bingley was smiling at him in a particular amused expression that he reserved for Darcy and his "moods," or so Bingley called them.

"What in heaven's name are you brooding about now? You look as though you are going to a funeral," Bingley continued.

Darcy supposed that matrimony was a kind of death, but he kept his musings to himself.

"Is the prospect of spending a few months in the country with me truly that dismal to you?"

Darcy gave his friend small smile and shook his head slightly.

"Heaven knows you're not the cheeriest person, but you seem especially quiet today. You've barely spoken two words and we have been in the carriage a good three hours since our last stop," Bingley said.

"I assure you, sir, I am content," Darcy replied.

"Fine, I'll believe you this time," Bingley said, smiling and folding his arms in a relaxed manner against his chest, "Though I think I can guess what you were thinking about."

"Really?"

"Yes, you were thinking about Ms. Wycliff."

Darcy said nothing. But he was unsettled that Bingley mentioned her. Out of all of the eligible ladies Darcy had met recently Ms. Wycliff seemed the most suitable as a wife. She came from a good family, high society, was rich, well mannered, and frankly quite beautiful.

In all accounts the woman seemed perfect. Society would definitely approve.

Yes, perfect in every way except they had no real affection towards each other.

In his interactions with Ms. Wycliff despite her beauty and charm, had lead him to feel nothing but respect towards her. He knew that Ms. Wycliff felt the same.

"Charles, you know better than anyone that I have no romantic interest towards Ms. Wycliff," Darcy said.

"Fine, then. You were thinking about the ball tomorrow. It's the prospect of dancing that is deepening your usual scowl."

Darcy did, indeed, feel his scowl deepen at the mention of the ball. In all his thoughts of matrimony, it had completely slipped his mind. How did he let Bingley convince him to attend an idiotic country ball?

Bingley laughed at Darcy's new face.

"Come, come, man. It won't be that bad. You may even try to dance a little."

"No."

"Not even with Caroline?"

"Especially not with Caroline."

Bingley let out another hearty laugh.

"She'll be sorry to hear it. I do wish you would reconsider about Caroline. I'd love to have you as a brother."

"And I you," Darcy said. But they both knew that there was no possible chance with Caroline Bingley. As beautiful as she was, as well mannered as she was, Caroline Bingley lacked the genuity that Darcy sought in a partner. He was grateful that Bingley understood that.

"Even I wouldn't want to be married to Caroline," Bingley added, smiling, "I love the girl but she can be quite intense. I'm glad Louisa persuaded her to travel with them the day before."

Darcy gave Bingley a half side smile. He too was grateful not to have to put up with Caroline's fawning for the entire ride from London to Netherfield, and he could show it. Charles Bingley was one of the few people Darcy could truly be himself with. It was his openness and genuine kindness that made Darcy feel that way.

"Well at least try to keep an open mind, Darcy," Bingley said closing his eyes and relaxing into his seat even more, "you may find a lady of whom you approve."

Darcy turned his face towards the window and looked out at the green pastures passing by.

He was certain he would _not_ find a lady of his approval, even with an open mind.

Especially not in the country.

And perhaps not anywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

"Isn't it wonderful?" Bingley asked as he stepped out of the carriage to face his new home. Darcy followed quietly behind.

Netherfield was . . . quaint, but not altogether unpleasing. It was nothing compared to Pemberley. But Darcy had never found a house to equal Pemberley.

"Well?" Bingley demanded.

"It's quite nice, Charles."

"'Quite nice?'"

"Yes."

"All right. It's as good a compliment from you as I'll ever get. I suppose I'll accept it. Come, let's go inside," Bingley said as bounded up the stairs with his quick step.

Darcy followed slowly behind. He was soon shown his room by a servant and taken there to refresh himself. There he was greeted by his Valet, Solomon Slade. Solomon had come earlier that morning in order to prepare Mr. Darcy's quarters.

"Good evening, sir," Solomon said, giving Darcy a low bow before returning to the trunk of clothes he was places in the clothes press.

"Slade," Darcy replied in greeting.

Solomon had been Darcy's valet for almost 10 years; before that he had served Darcy's father. He had silver hair and bright blue eyes. Eyes that spot a loose hem, crooked cravat, or loose sock from across the room. Darcy found him invaluable. If there was a man to be trusted with his life, he would entrust it to Solomon. Though Darcy would never say that out loud.

"Did you have a pleasant journey, sir?" Solomon asked.

"As pleasant as a journey from London to the country can be," Darcy replied. "Here, I'd like to change."

"Yes, sir," Solomon said abandoning his current task to assist his master, "speaking of dressing, I have selected some attire for tomorrow night's ball. If you'd like to look at it."

Darcy tilted his head back in annoyance at the reminder of the ball, and clenched his jaw. The expression was not lost on Solomon.

"Will Mr. Darcy be going to the ball?" he asked raising one silver eyebrow at his employer.

"Yes, unfortunately I must," Darcy grumbled.

"Ah, nothing so tedious as spending an evening with lively, kind people and good music. You are unfortunate, sir."

Darcy shot a deadly look at his valet, who seemed altogether _too_ invested in trying Mr. Darcy's fresh cravat. Darcy did, however, detect a small wry smile on Solomon's face.

"Solomon," Darcy said.

"Yes, sir?"

Solomon looked up from his work. Darcy could forgive the occasional cheeky comment from Slade, but he waited until Solomon met his eye to make sure that his valet knew Darcy did not approve of such a comment.

"Forgive me, sir" Solomon said, still smiling, "I was out of place."

Darcy cleared his throat and let Solomon continue to tie his cravat.

"Your father was the same way, you know. Hated balls and the like. Always was so quiet when I helped him dress for such occasions. You are like him in so many ways."

Darcy felt both pride and sorrow at the mention of his father. To be like his father was perhaps his deepest desire. Solomon finished tying the cravat and took a step back.

"Thank you, Slade," Darcy said.

Solomon bowed and returned to unpacking Darcy's things.

Soon Darcy was summoned for dinner. Darcy stepped out of his room and headed downstairs to find Bingley again before dinner. But instead of being greeted by his friend in the foyer he was greeted by a differently Bingley.

Caroline Bingley.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

"Ah, _there_ you are Mr. Darcy," Caroline said, her voice held the sweetness of an overripe strawberry, "I was beginning to think you had changed your mind and decided not to come at all."

Darcy gave a bow to Miss Bingley.

"But I know you would never abandon Charles, Mr. Darcy, you are too much the gentleman," Caroline said. Then, leaning closer to him she whispered, "I have already heard that there are many a young lady in this area that would wish to ensnare my brother. We must be vigilant you and I, Mr. Darcy, to make sure he does not get taken in."

"Though your brother is agreeable and friendly I am sure he will be prudent in the friendships he makes while he is here." Mr. Darcy stated. Though he secretly agreed that Bingley would need to be watched he was not eager to be in any sort of alliance with Caroline Bingley. He would much prefer to keep on eye on Bingley on his own.

"Mr. Darcy, I never took you for someone to trusting. Surely you must know as well as I that Charles is far too open and naive. These country girls have a way about them; they may seem silly and inconsequential but their distance from society turns them into vipers whenever a suitable man comes around. You must agree with me there."

Darcy said nothing but instead offered his arm to Caroline to escort her to dinner. This did not daunt Caroline from her present task of enlisting Mr. Darcy in the aid of protecting her brother. She took his arm and continued.

"To be sure, Mr. Darcy, I heard the servants mention that Charles had already been invited to numerous houses to dine."

"Could this not be attributed to the politeness of the neighborhood?"

"Oh, Mr. Darcy, how gracious you are to these people. You know as well as I that if my brother had not £5,000 a year he would not have received half so many visitors."

Darcy once again chose to remain silent at this comment. True, there had been many a young lady who in the past attempted to secure Bingley's heart and thereby his fortune, but he could not believe that _every_ girl in the country could be after him. Was it truly the den if vipers Caroline made it out to be?

"But I do insist Mr. Darcy, you must agree to assist me in looking after my brother."

"I promise to do all that I deem necessary to secure your brother's happiness," Darcy replied. He felt that this was an appropriate reply since whether there were troublesome ladies or not it would still be kept, with or without Caroline.

Caroline either took this reply as assurance enough or was not brave enough to pursue the subject as the entered the dining room. Bingley was there, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Hurst. He was greeted by Louisa with warmth, and by Mr. Hurst with a sort of grunt.

Dinner and the rest of the evening passed with little difficulty. Mr. Hurst was too busy with his meal to say much, but the rest of the party mingled in pleasant conversation. Mr. Bingley spoke of his pleasure of being together in the country, Louisa talked of her dress for the ball, and Caroline changed her opinions to match that of Mr. Darcy's throughout the course of the evening. The evening whittled away with such pleasantries graced with a few grunts and snores from Mr. Hurst. Though it had been easy enough, Darcy was relieved when he could return to his room.

Darcy was once again greeted by Solomon as he entered his room. Solomon had left a few candles glowing by Darcy's bed which cast a sleepy warm glow across the room.

"Good evening, sir. Would Mr. Darcy like to retire?" Solomon asked.

"No, Slade, not yet, thank you. I think I will write to Ms. Georgianna."

"Very well, sir, call for me when you are ready," Solomon said as he slipped back into the dressing room where Solomon's own personal room was attached.

Darcy realized the strangeness of writing a letter so late, but he would not neglect Georgiana. She would want to know that he arrived safely at Netherfield - he should have already written her that afternoon. This way he could send the letter off first thing in the morning.

Darcy felt guilt sweep inside of him as he wrote his sister's name in dark ink; perhaps he shouldn't have left Georgiana. It had been over a year since the event with Wickham, Georgiana had grown so much in that year since the encounter, but he still felt that she was haunted by it.

For Georgiana, who even at 15 was more sensible than most grown women, to have been almost seduced by Wickham was still shocking to Darcy himself. How dare he attempt to disgrace his sister thus! He gripped his pen tighter in his hand.

He hated the man.

No, not hate. As much as Darcy wished he _could_ hate Wickham, as much as he distrusted and disrespected the man, hate was till not an emotion he harbored for Wickham.

What was it that kept him from that hate?

Was is their history?

Darcy shook his head and sighed down at his letter. His writing there stated nothing but "Dear Georgiana." Darcy suddenly felt tired, but would not abandon his duty.

 _Dear Georgiana,_

 _Mr. Bingley and I have made it safely to Netherfield. I will write more when I have more news to tell. Ms. Bingley sens her well wishes, and I send my love. More to come._

 _Fitzwilliam_

 _It was a waste of paper, Darcy knew, but it would do. Georgiana would know he was safe and that was his current task at hand. He rang for Solomon. He would write her again after the ball._

The ball.

Darcy let out a sigh as he thought once again of the party he would have to attend the following evening. The last ball he had been attended had been tolerable, but it had been a private ball. What was more was he had more acquaintances there, the Bingleys, Ms. Wycliff.

Ms. Wycliff. At the last ball, Ms. Wycliff had expressed her own dislike of balls, though she admitted they were necessary.

"Are you ready for bed, sir?" Solomon asked, interrupting Darcy's thoughts as he came out of his room.

Darcy nodded, turning any forming thoughts of Ms. Wycliff away.

"Anything else I can do for you sir?" Solomon asked once he finished helping Darcy preparing for bed.

"No, that will be all, thank you, Solomon." Darcy said as he climbed into bed. Solomon blew out the last candle and Darcy was left in darkness.


End file.
